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Wednesday, July 22, 2009

I Hate Driving

Usually I am a master parallel parker. Really. My mom once thought that I must have picked the car up and put it in the space, it was so impressive. (I did not, btw, in case you thought I may have super powers.)

I pulled up to a spot outside of our library and was distracted by something shiny (?) and did a sub par park job. This big ol' box truck parked in front of me. As I was walking by his window he says to me "Don't you have like five feet back there?" Referring, of course, to my car being too far from the one behind it. I stared at him for a few seconds, ran through my options (flip him off, walk away, move the car) and said "I'll move it." He thanked me.

I moved the car back a few feet and was walking across the street and he says to me "You still have space back there?" And I yelled back "It's pretty fucking close."

In retrospect, he may have meant: You still have space to get your car out later? I hope I did not box it into the spot, ma'am.

Not: You still have space to move your goddamn car back? Move the f'ing car before I slam it with my huge truck. Biatch.

I assumed the latter, but perhaps it was the former. One of us was a jerk. I am kinda hoping it was me, that I misunderstood him. I will never know.